


letters to no one

by asexuelf



Category: Sally Face (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Coping, Dialogue Heavy, Diary/Journal, Established Relationship, Fluff, Healing, M/M, Past Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Travis Joins The Sally Face Gang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:54:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22037374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asexuelf/pseuds/asexuelf
Summary: Travis has a hard time sharing his feelings, so Sal makes a suggestion.
Relationships: Sal Fisher/Travis Phelps
Comments: 14
Kudos: 49





	letters to no one

**Author's Note:**

> not proud of this one, but i wanted to get something out since i was busy all weekend... hopefully it's just because i read it over too many times and it's still enjoyable! 💖

"So," Sal says conversationally over his soup. It's their first real, official date and Travis is proud to be paying for their meal at a local soup-and-sandwich joint.

"Yeah?"

"I remember you wrote a letter to someone you had feelings for. I saw it in the bathroom that day we became friends."

Travis' heart falls out of his ass and he feels his face pale. Sal read his letter? He doesn't mean the shameful love letter Travis _threw away_ , does he? Did Sal dig it out of the stinking garbage?

Sal chases a piece of potato around with his spoon as if he didn't just uproot Travis' whole shit. "It seemed therapeutic for you. Have you ever kept a journal?"

"Uh- What?" _Like a diary? Like a girl keeps?_ But he can't exactly pull all that _'girly men are bad'_ bullcrap when his boyfriend is sitting across from him wearing wedge heels and a mid-length skirt. "No. I've never really considered it."

He's written a few unsent letters (and gone to confessional, if that counts), but he thinks his father would shit (or worse) if he ever kept a diary.

But then again, he doesn't have to worry about Kenneth Phelps anymore, does he? At least, outside of weird cult bullshit. Now that he lives on his own as an emancipated teen with his own apartment room and his own job and everything, he's free to do whatever the hell he likes.

"I think you should try it out!" Sal smiles, his blue eyes crinkling cutely behind his mask. "I started keeping a diary a long time ago. I don't use it much anymore, but it helped a lot."

Travis swirls his soda glass around, hearing the ice tumble around in the liquid and clink against the sides. He supposes it could be a good idea. It would, admittedly, be nice to get some of his thoughts out… After so many years of bottling everything he ever felt for the fear of being found out, speaking to other people about anything deeper than the latest movie or the weather is hard. Almost impossible. With a journal, he might get a little practice in.

"What kind of things would I write about? I don't exactly get up to a whole lot."

Sal shrugs. "I don't mean to bring down the room, but I know you still battle with shame… I'm actually unsure if I should have worn this outfit for our date. I never want to make you feel uncomfortable, but I was already on the bust next to you when I realized…"

" _Never_ change yourself for me, Sally Face. Ever."

"Oh!" Sal looks down, curls a lock of hair around his finger. Travis can tell he's pleased and a little surprised. "I care about you too, Travis."

His face warm and heart light, Travis averts his eyes. "Yeah, well… I don't think it's physically possible for me to be ashamed of you. Ashamed of _me_ maybe, but that's a whole different pile of garbage."

A hand grabs his across the table. "I struggle too sometimes, but seeing you be brave makes me feel brave."

"I should be the one saying those things to you." He smiles and rubs his thumb over his boyfriend's soft, boney knuckles. "You saved me, Sally. Maybe I should write about that."

Sal's hand squeezes his tightly. Though the angle of his head makes it hard to peer through the dark eyeholes of his prosthetic, Travis thinks his good eye looks a little wet. "Oh, you… You're too corny."

"The corniest. But only for you." Forcing himself to ignore the way his stomach flips with fear, Travis leans across the booth to press his lips against Sal's smooth, ceramic ones. He knows Sal can't feel it, especially with the bottom undone to eat, but he finds kissing Sal intoxicating regardless. "Now eat your soup, dork."

"Gladly, _dork_. But only if you accept we're going dutch!"

"No way! I finally saved up enough money from the Cinema '84 so I could take you here!"

"I can pay for my soup, Travis. I got a cheap one."

"What?! I'm calling the waiter. Pick a more expensive soup."

"Travis, oh my God. Don't call the waiter - Oh my God, put your hand down!" Sal grabs his arm, forcing it back to the table. "You're so dramatic! Even more dramatic than Chug!"

"What?! That guy quoted Shakespeare when his pork rinds fell into the street."

"To be fair to Chug, that was very sad."

"Pork rinds are gross. You guys need Jesus."

Sal laughs, a rare sound of pure delight. "I'll go to church if you just let me _pay for my soup_."

"If I let you pay for it, it becomes the devil's soup."

"H- What? What does that even mean?!"

"I… have no idea."

The two laugh a little too hard, but Travis finds himself oblivious to the people around him. For once, he is unashamed.

Sal lets him pay for the meal, but only because he convinces him that his money would be better spent as a tip.

*

He doesn't want a journal. He tells himself that over and over in the hopes it will magically become true. Magic exists - Miss Rosenberg was a witch, Sal told him so. Obviously, it's possible for Travis to turn true things false. He just has to find out how.

 _You're afraid of magic,_ a voice whispers somewhere in his mind. It sounds suspiciously like Sal. _Maybe you could write about that_.

Travis sighs. In front of him is a shelf of many nice-looking journals, all leather-bound and well-crafted. There's one that's very simple that he really likes in particular. It's reddish and more square than rectangular.

"Shit," he groans.

He grabs the journal and heads to checkout.

*

He's at home, he's sitting on his bed, and the journal is in his lap.

He's such a shmuck. An absolute clown of a man. It's been three days since he bought this stupid thing and he hasn't written a damn word. Which is ridiculous, considering the fact it was almost eighteen dollars.

He doesn't get paid enough at his stupid job to be spending so much on a journal he won't use.

Quickly, before he can lose his nerve, he opens to the first page and scratches his pen to the paper.

4/18/94  \- _work fucking sucks_

There. He wrote something. He wrote it down in his journal! Yeah!

And it only barely feels like courtroom evidence. 

_What if your boss read that,_ his stupid brain taunts him. _Then you'll get fired, dipshit_.

But that makes no sense. Why the fuck would his boss be reading his journal? Is Olivia from Century '84 going to break into his fucking house? Is she going to knock down the door to his fucking apartment and run in on her hands and knees like a fucking animal in search of proof that he doesn't worship his shitty job?

No. Because Olivia hates her job too. Century '84 is a dumpster fire that also happens to show movies and everyone knows it. Everyone who works there gets treated like shit because of it. _And_ they have to smell like burnt popcorn for the rest of their lives. It fucking sucks!

Travis picks up his pen and keeps writing.

*

Alright, he'll admit it. Sal was right; this journaling thing is pretty good for his health.

Most of it so far is just venting about work or about asshole Mrs. Gibson downstairs, but it's still really therapeutic. He even managed to write a short entry about a couple of guys who came into the theater that he was pretty sure were on a date. Seeing them made him feel that weird feeling in his chest - loneliness but the opposite of loneliness too. It was so bizarre, he hadn't found the words to tell Sal or even Neil about it, but he managed to write it down.

He burned the entry later, but he wrote it down. He feels a little victorious. He feels… closer to the bravery Sal claims he has. As strong as Sal says he is.

A part of him wants to share it with Sal - maybe hand him the journal and wait until he's done reading the entry to talk about it with him. That would make sharing his feelings much, much more simple.

The risk is too great, though. He could never do it. Too many journal entries are just about Sal, Sal, Sal, and he can't have Sally seeing that. He's worried it would chase him away.

If Sal thinks he's corny already, what will he think when he sees him waxing poetic for four pages about the shapes of his body? About the hue of his eye(s)? About the curl of his hair?

He'd run in the other direction. He'd see the true depth of Travis' sin and finally despise him like he always should have.

No, he can't risk it. There's no way Sal can _ever_ read it - and he so would if he found it too, the nosy bastard. Sal would read classified documents even if a government agent was holding a gun to his head. Idiot.

_My idiot…_

And he wants to keep it that way, at least a little longer. So, Travis keeps his journal hidden in a smallish locked box that he slides between his mattress and the wall. It's mostly covered by all the cute stuffed animals Sal has since won him at fairs and festivals, but he still finds himself worrying for too often about Sal stumbling onto it. He isn't even sure if Sal knows he keeps a journal and he's still paranoid about it.

Sal has a key to his apartment, after all, and can enter at any time. Travis gave it to him in case of emergencies, but he mostly just uses it so he can sneak in for a cuddle. Not that Travis is about to go scolding him for that any time soon.

Still, when he's at work, he finds himself idly hoping that his boyfriend never, ever, ever finds it, and worrying intensely about what will happen when he does.

*

Travis takes a deep breath. Then another. And a third.

He's standing outside Addison Apartments, waiting for Sal to get back. He's already been back from school for a good many hours, but Sal was babysitting Ben with Ashley starting right after school.

Keyword: _was_. He should be home by now. Like, _two hours ago_ by now. It's almost completely dark out now, with only the light of the moon bouncing off the pale sidewalk to brighten the space outside of Addison Apartments, and Sal still isn't back.

Travis takes another deep breath. It's become very hard not to panic.

Sal isn't one to be late. He's nosy and stubborn and his mouth can be almost unbearably smart but he's also punctual, considerate, and kind. He does his best to make life easy for those around him, which means he calls ahead if he's going to be late. Always, every single time.

Travis hasn't gotten any calls. He's run back upstairs to his room to make sure, but there's nothing. No missed calls, no voicemail. Sal's just gone.

Bizarrely, Travis finds himself wanting his journal. Something - anything - to get the feelings out and even just a bit less all-consuming.

He's about to turn around to check the phone again when he sees Todd. 

Todd is walking towards him, his red hair dark in the dim lighting, and he looks serious. Very serious, even for Todd.

"Oh, no."

Todd reaches him and meets his eyes gravely from behind his thick glasses. "Sal and Ashley's bus flipped over."

"Shit. Shit! What the fuck?"

"They're both okay - somehow. Something hit the bus and essentially tossed it off the road. People are saying it's a normal car wreck, but looking at the details online and on the news, I'm suspecting cult activity."

"How the- How do you know all of this? How do you know they're okay?"

"Henry called Lisa and I ran into Lisa in the hall. She didn't seem too worried, so I trust her when she says they're unharmed."

Again, despite his lungs rebelling against him, Travis tries to take a deep breath. "Okay. Okay. Jesus Christ."

"I second that sentiment." Todd drops a hand to his shoulder, making the situation feel even more unreal. Has Todd _ever_ touched him? How bizarre. "But Henry should be returning with Sal soon."

Travis meets his eyes, unconvinced. "If they're okay, why come down to tell me? Why not wait for Sal or even Ash to tell me what happened?"

"I came down to grab my parents' mail for them and saw you through the window. I thought you'd appreciate being in the know."

"...I do. Thank you, Todd."

"Of course, Travis." The hand squeezes his shoulder warmly, surprisingly tender for a boy who usually seems like the world's most lethargic robot. "Would you prefer I kept you company for a while? Perhaps until Sal and his father arrive."

"...Yes, please." He says it so quietly, he fears Todd won't hear him at all. He knows, though, that without Sal's journal advice, he might not have said it at all."

When Sal gets home, Travis knows what he has to do.

*

"Here."

"Um-" Sal looks down at the journal being thrust into his chest. It's reddish and more square than rectangular. "What's this?"

"My journal."

"Oh! You took my advice after all."

"Yes." He silently begs Sal not to make a big deal about that.

"Um…" Sal looks up at him from under his short eyelashes. One eye has none at all - not to mention no eye. He's undressed and ready for bed, likely tired after a traumatic event, but this can't wait until tomorrow. "Why are you handing this to me, angel?"

"It's- I was. Scared." Goddamn, this is so much harder than writing. "There's entries about you. They're mostly titled _blue bird,_ easy to find. I need you to read them."

Sal doesn't open the journal. "Travis, I know you love me. I love you too."

"Sal!" _I love you I love you I love you_ \- "Just… I need you to read it. Okay?"

After a moment's silence, Sal nods (only somewhat reluctantly) and cracks open Travis' journal. He flips through it, looking for pages about him, but Travis sees his eye linger curiously over every page. Nosey dork. Travis loves him so fucking much.

Finally, Sal finds a page and starts reading. Proof to Travis of a merciful God, Sal doesn't read aloud. His eye scans hungrily down the page, then flicks up to meet Travis'.

"You… really feel all that? About me?"

"There's more. So much more. Just keep readin- _mmph!"_

Sal doesn't keep reading. He kisses and kisses Travis, all teeth and clumsy tongue, until Henry comes by to clear his throat and pointedly wish Travis a good night.

Travis can't imagine being away from Sal after what happened tonight and he thinks Henry can tell, because the man sighs and says, "You're welcome to take the couch tonight, Travis. But, um - no funny business, alright, son?"

"Yes, sir!" He squeaks.

After a shrewd look, Henry leaves, presumably to grab Travis an extra blanket.

Alone again, he turns back to Sal. "Keep the journal tonight. Read the rest of your pages."

"Travis, no! You must be stressed. Don't you want to write in it tonight?"

Yes. "No. I need you to know."

"I _do_ know. You beautiful, stupid, ridiculous angel. Take your journal. We'll read it together tomorrow, I swear."

Travis takes a deep breath, then another. A third. "...There _will_ be a tomorrow?"

"Oh, darling… Yes. Yes, always. Forever, I promise."

 _Forever_ is a promise made to be broken, but it makes Travis feel safe anyways. His arms don't shake so much and his legs seem suddenly more practiced at holding his weight.

"I love you, Sally Face." Reluctantly, he takes the journal. Then, less reluctantly, he takes Sal's hand. "If you scare me like that again, you'll need a prosthetic for your entire body. I mean, don't do that again."

Sal laughs. "Now I really know you were scared." His voice grows warmer, less amused. "I'm okay, Travis. It was pretty scary, but I was mostly worried for Ashley."

"Stupid cult." Travis grumbles. He steps forward to pull Sal into his arms and echo Larry's earlier sentiment, "We're going to kick their asses for this."

"Yeah. We are."

"Forever."

If Sal finds it too corny, he doesn't complain (or run in the opposite direction). His hand, sweaty and cold, clutches tightly to Travis'. His smile could light every bulb and fuel every fire.

Travis leans close and says, just once more, "I love you, Sally Face."

"I love you too," Sal says again, now against his mouth, his scarred forehead resting close to Travis'. "Now go before we get a safe sex lecture from my dad."

Travis laughs. "Okay, okay. I'll see you in the morning, beautiful."

"Looking forward to it."

**Author's Note:**

> i struggled a lot with that ending amdbsk thank you for reading and i hope you liked!! 💖💖


End file.
